


The Ballad of Barry the Bellboy, or, How Godric Got His Groove Back

by srmarybadass



Series: The Wacky Adventures of Godric and Barry [1]
Category: True Blood
Genre: M/M, guest appearances by phone, has anyone even heard of this pairing?, it's my otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 23:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srmarybadass/pseuds/srmarybadass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which our hapless hero is shanghaied by a bunch of bloodsucking fiends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and published in August 2009.  
> Yes, it's an incredibly rare pairing. I'm pretty sure I'm the only person ever to write it.  
> Does anyone even REMEMBER Barry? The telepathic bellboy who is probably stuck in fairyland or something right now?

Three noticeably vampire-free weeks after Barry Horowitz handed in his resignation to the Camilla Hotel, his doorbell rang.

 

For most people, this would not have been cause for alarm. For the average unemployed telepath who had spent two years working for vampires, however, it was more than a little worrisome.

 

 _Please, God, let it just be some Girl Scouts or something_ , he thought. _Please, please, please…_

 

“Who is it?” he asked through the securely locked door, reminding himself that he should really get a window installed in the door…or something.

 

There was only silence. Gathering his courage- of which there was very little, as he was more than willing to admit- he opened the door.

 

A cowboy and a Latina stood in the hallway outside his apartment.

 

He couldn’t hear their thoughts.

 

 _Shit._

 

He moved to shut the door- _they can’t get in if I don’t invite them!_ he thought desperately- but the man was too quick, and Barry found himself dragged into the hallway.

 

“The sheriff would like a word with you,” he growled.

 

“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think I want to have a word with any sheriff,” Barry spluttered nervously.

 

“Oh Stan, stop scaring the boy,” the woman ordered, rolling his eyes. “Remember, he told us not to touch the telepath.”

 

“How do you know-” Barry began before shutting his big fat mouth that he was quite sure would lead to his death someday.

 

“You’re coming with us,” the man- Stan- growled again. “Our sheriff wants to talk to you. And we won’t hurt you or do anything against your will,” he added grudgingly.

 

Barry took a moment to consider his options. The door was shut behind him, and the woman had cleverly moved in front of it. He was wearing a silver chain around his neck- a precaution he’d taken up after being bit- but that wouldn’t prevent the vamps from ripping him limb from limb.

 

He nodded, and quick as a wink, he found himself being hustled down the stairs and into an awaiting SUV- black with tinted windows, of course.

 

The car ride that followed was, without a doubt, the most awkward one of his life, and considering his life, that was saying something. He tried multiple times to pry some information from his captors- although, technically, he had gone willingly, an act he was rather regretting at the moment- but the only thing he learned was that the woman had purchased her boots on sale (“I really like your shoes.” “Thank you. They were on sale.”)

 

Finally, they arrived at a relatively large suburban house, with a three-car garage and blackout curtains on the inside of every window.

 

“So this is the sheriff’s house?” Barry tried once more.

 

“It’s our nest,” the one known as Stan informed him offhandedly. The woman kept a tight grip on his arm as she marched him inside.

 

“We have him!” she called out to an apparently empty house that looked like it had come pre-packaged from _Modern Home Magazine._

 

Barry’s unfortunately human ears didn’t pick up anything, but obviously his new undead acquaintances heard something, because they dragged him into a large living room, where a young man sat in front of a roaring fireplace. Why on earth anyone would have a lit fire in _Texas_ was completely beyond Barry, but damned if he was going to ask.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Horowitz,” the man- he must have been a vampire, Barry realized, and a very old one at that- said, voice softly lilting.

 

“Um. Good evening, sir,” the former bellboy awkwardly greeted, inclining his head in a gesture of respect because boy howdy, if the vamp in front of him didn’t command respect, nobody did.

 

“These are my colleagues, Stan West and Isabel Martinez,” the leader informed him. Stan and Isabel nodded. “My name is Godric, and I am the sheriff of Area Nine.”

 

Under normal circumstances, a vampire named Godric would have struck Barry as humorous. But, as with most aspects of Barry’s life, these circumstances were decidedly not normal.

 

“I trust that Stan and Isabel have treated you well?”

 

Barry nodded. “Yes. The, er, car was very, uh….nice.”

 

 _My God, I sound like an idiot. Focus, Barry, focus!_ , he thought angrily to himself. _You’ve been around plenty of vamps._

 

The vampire took on a strange expression that wasn’t quite a smile and nodded. “You must be wondering why I have summoned you here.”

 

“The thought did cross my mind,” Barry muttered. Isabel giggled, which made Barry both happy and afraid. In his experience, nothing good came from giggling vampires.

 

“I have received information that you are a telepath, Mr. Horowitz?” Godric inquired.

 

“Barry, please, and yes,” Barry answered in the affirmative. “But I can’t read vampire minds, so-”

 

“That is not the matter I am interested in, although it is reassuring to know,” Godric said, looking up at Barry with big gray eyes. “I have a proposition for you.”

 

For one very interesting moment, all Barry’s mind processed was _Proposition! Sex! Cute boy! Vampire!_ , before he brought himself back to his right mind- if he ever had a right mind- and focused on Godric.

 

“A proposition, sir?”

 

“Godric, please. And yes, a proposition. I would like very much if you would work for me.”

 

“In what capacity?” Barry inquired, ignoring the extremely persistent part of his mind that was yelping _Sex! Sex! Sex!_

 

“I have made it the goal of the vampire population of my Area to successfully assimilate and deal with humans. There are several business mergers pending, we have frequent press conferences, and, as always, there is the problem of those who do not believe that vampires and humans can live in peace,” Godric explained. “It would be most beneficial for everyone involved if we had someone who could inform us of the truth of people’s thoughts.”

 

“So…you want to hire me….to read minds?” Barry said slowly.

 

Godric nodded. “In a nutshell.”

 

“Uh- I- er, well, that is…” Barry stammered, not entirely sure what to do.

 

“There’s no need to be nervous,” Godric reassured him. “If you do not wish to accept my offer, you are free to go, right now, back to your cheap little apartment. But,” and here he leaned forward slightly, voice lowering on and taking on the tone of someone who held all the aces, “you know as well as I do that no job will pay the amount that we can. That is, if you could even function in a normal job, with your condition at all.” He relaxed against his seat, staring unwaveringly at the extraordinarily stressed-out telepath in front of him.

 

Barry considered. Although he was loath to admit it, Godric had a point. Actually, he had several. Barry had never been able to hold down a job for more than a few months, and vamps, he knew, could pay _extremely_ well, as Ms. Sookie Stackhouse had attested. He sighed, knowing that he pretty much had no choice.

 

“I would love to come and work for you,” Barry said, tone showing exactly how _much_ he _loved_ working for vampires. Godric raised an eyebrow, but didn’t call him on it. Stan, who was still glaring, didn’t either. Isabel just looked entertained.

 

“Excellent,” Godric smiled quietly. “You will be provided with plenty of compensation, lodgings, and benefits.” Again, Barry’s mind instantly began projecting rather inappropriate images.

 

 _He means dental insurance, he means dental insurance, he means dental insurance,_ Barry repeated to himself before catching onto Godric’s words.

 

“Wait- lodgings?”

 

Godric nodded. “Isabel will show you to your room. Would you like us to send someone to pick up your belongings tonight, or would you like to get them yourself tomorrow?”

 

“Room- belongings- wait, what?” Barry stammered awkwardly.

 

“You will be living here, of course,” Godric informed him. “We never know when we may need your services, and you would want to avoid more midnight trips across Dallas.”

 

Barry nodded dumbly, still not entirely sure what was going on. “I’ll, uh, I’ll pick them up myself tomorrow, and….talk to my landlord?”

 

“Excellent,” Godric nodded, and apparently, that particular nod was some sort of signal, because Stan strode out the door and Isabel said “come with me” and Barry really had no choice but to follow.

 

Once they were upstairs, Isabel turned to him.

 

“Don’t let the boys scare you,” she said. “Godric is very kind, for a vampire, and Stan…well…he is all bark and no bite.”

 

“No bite…sure….” Barry mumbled. To his surprise, Isabel smiled.

 

“You are not here as a food source, so you don’t need to worry about any biting,” she told him. This didn’t particularly reassure Barry, but at least the vampire was trying. She opened a door. “This is where you will stay.”

 

Barry’s eyes grew large- the room was nearly as large as his apartment, and that wasn’t counting the adjoining bathroom. The bed was huge, the furniture toed the line between modern and futuristic, with a leaning towards the chrome age, and everything was neat as a pin. Barry loved it when things were organized, because his mind so frequently wasn’t.

 

“You will sleep now,” Isabel informed him. “Tomorrow, you may talk to our daytime person, and she will show you around the house and help you with bringing your things over.”

 

Barry nodded. “Well, uh. Good night, then.”

 

Isabel turned to leave, but she wasn’t out the door when she said over her shoulder, “We’re happy to have you here. Really.”

 

Barry wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, so he decided to just go to bed already. In the three weeks since he’d quit at the hotel, he had grown accustomed to being awake during the day, and it would be an unpleasant couple of days before his sleep schedule readjusted.

 

He slid under the pleasantly smooth sheets and looked up at the shadowy ceiling, mind attempting to process the last hour and a half, before settling on a single thought.

 

 _What on earth have I gotten myself into?_


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hapless hero goes grocery shopping, makes a long-distance phone call, meets a new friend, and catches someone singing in the shower.

Barry awoke at noon to a dead silent house.

 

 _Dead silent- that’s funny, because I’m_ surrounded by vampires, he thought to himself. But Barry had learned to adapt to worse situations- like being able to hear the thoughts of everyone around him- so he resigned himself, got out of bed, and shuffled down to the kitchen.

 

There was no food in the house.

 

 _Well, it’s a house full of fucking_ vampires, _of_ course _they don’t have any fucking toaster waffles or something_ , he thought grumpily. Obviously this situation needed to be resolved, and since he was the only person available, he grabbed the forty bucks that someone had left on the table and strode out into the sunlight, enjoying it while he could.

 

He returned triumphantly on foot an hour later, laden with the spoils of his conquest, which included enough groceries for at least a week and a chocolate mocha latte.

 

In order to stop himself from freaking out about being in a _house full of vampires_ he focused on the immediate task- putting away the groceries and making himself some fucking toaster waffles. But when the waffles were eaten and the dish washed, he was at a loss.

 

 _What am I supposed to do, working for vampires like this?_ He thought. _I need some advice and- god damn it, I need to call Sookie._

 

He sighed and dug around in his wallet before he found the business card she’d written her number on- and drawn a little smiley face under it.

 

 _Fucking perpetually cheerful telepath,_ he thought as he dialed, waiting as it connected and rang, half-hoping she wouldn’t pick up.

 

“Hello, this is Sookie Stackhouse, how may I help you?” a sleepy voice asked. Barry briefly wondered why she was sleepy in the middle of the day when he remembered she was dating a vampire.

 

“Hi- yeah- this is Barry Horowitz? Uh, Barry the Bellboy?” There was a pause, then-

 

“ _Barry!_ How are you?”

 

“Well, I quit the job at the hotel three weeks ago, but last night two vampires showed up at my door and dragged me to their nest and now I’m working for them.”

 

There was a pause as Sookie processed this.

 

“I assume that wasn't your idea?”

 

Barry shook his head, then remembered she couldn’t see him. “No. I- I sort of want to work for them, I mean, it’s not like I have a choice. But I don’t really know what being a telepath for vamps is like, so I figured-”

 

“You needed some advice.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Well, first off, don’t be afraid to ask for money,” Sookie informed him, voice a soothing country twang. “With humans, discussing payment and raises and stuff is considered kinda awkward, but with vampires it’s business as usual.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Always ask for protection if you think you need it, and keep yourself armed somewhat at all times. I learned that the hard way,” she confessed.

 

Barry hissed in sympathy.

 

“So are you at Godric’s nest?” Sookie inquired.

 

“Yeah. There are two others here as well- Stan and Isabel?”

 

“I got to know them while I was in Dallas,” Sookie told him. “Isabel is pretty nice, or, you know, as nice as a vampire gets. Stan is a bit of a hair-trigger, but Godric keeps him in line, and…well, I think…I think Godric is sort of unusual among vampires. He treats humans as equals-”

 

“Yeah, he was really polite last night,” Barry interjected.

 

“-but he’s also really, _really_ powerful.”

 

Barry gulped. “How powerful?”

 

“The most powerful vampire in North America. He’s two thousand years old.”

 

“Oh….great,” Barry mumbled. There was an awkward silence for a minute.

 

“You call me if you need any other help, or just want to talk, or anything, all right?”

 

Barry smiled, thankful that at least he had someone who understood his situation. “Thanks. I will. You have a nice day now.”

 

“Good luck.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

 _I’ll need it_ , he thought after hanging up the phone. He turned around, thinking to go find the television, and came face-to-face with a grinning young woman.

 

“ _Holy shit!”_ he yelped.

 

“Hi! I’m Marigold Worthington, daytime gofer and emergency food supply extraordinaire,” she bubbled, sticking her hand out.

 

“Uh- I- bwuh- you- this- I’m Barry,” he spluttered, shaking her hand automatically. Fortunately, it was easier to shield his mind when he was only around one person, so the only thing he caught was _cute kid, which one was he with last night_ before he could focus again.

 

“I wasn’t with anyone last night!” he said indignantly, before realizing what he had done.

 

 _Oh shit._

 

Marigold narrowed her eyes and took him in. “Are you the telepath?”

 

Barry nodded carefully.

“Are you living here now?”

 

Another cautious nod.

 

“Welcome!” she cried, flinging her arms around him. “It’ll be so nice to have another _person_ around, not that the vamps are bad or anything, but, you know, having someone who can appreciate what a hangover feels like is really awesome. So you’re not with anyone?”

 

“N-no,” Barry stammered.

 

“Have you moved your stuff in yet?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“Great. Let’s go, my car’s outside.”

 

In the next three hours, Barry learned that Marigold Worthington was twenty-three, had graduated last year from Southern Methodist University with a degree in Political Science, a minor in History and, recent job market being what it was, had come to work for the vampires, which she actually quite enjoyed. He found out that her job entailed running errands in the daytime- they stopped en route to Barry’s apartment to pick up some of Isabel’s dry cleaning- and occasionally being nibbled on by either of the three vampires. She told him that Godric really was “such a sweetie, if a bit emo”, that Stan was “totally fun to tease”, and that Isabel was “one of my biffles, although I’m certain that there’s a vampire word for it”. When asked, he learned that her glasses were because she was incredibly nearsighted, her honey hair required no highlights, and she had never drank vampire blood. And, thrillingly for Barry, he heard all of this from her mouth, not her brain.

 

They arrived back at Vampire Central, as Marigold referred to the nest, at about four thirty, where they parted ways- Barry to take a nap, in a probably futile attempt to adjust his sleep schedule, and Marigold to run some more errands.

 

When he woke up, it was seven o’clock, a little bit after dark. He shuffled out of his bed and down the hallway, a mighty hunter on the prowl for a toilet. The house was bigger than he first thought and somehow he ended up on another floor. He was about to turn back when he heard running water- but that wasn’t the only sound coming from behind the door.

 

Barry tiptoed over and pressed his ear to the wood. There was definitely a shower going, so this was definitely a bathroom- he filed that bit of information away- but there was a voice coming from inside. A soft voice, melodic in its sweetness, a smooth alto. Someone was singing, and it wasn’t in English. The song, whatever it was, actually reminded Barry somewhat of the Gregorian chants his Latin teacher had played for his class in high school, but more cheerful.

 

The voice was undoubtedly male, so it wasn’t Isabel, and it sounded far too light to be Stan’s. His telepathy was only picking up Marigold’s thoughts, which were muffled by the two flights of stairs, so that left one option.

 

 _Godric,_ he thought. _Oh my. Godric sings in the shower? A two thousand year old vampire sings in the_ shower?

 

Barry, stunningly intelligent young man that he was, quickly located the other bathroom, right across the hall from the hall occupied by the _vampire he wasn't going to think about_. After shaving, and wondering why on earth a house of vampires had a razor in the bathroom, he strode out, ready to face whatever awaited him.

 

Unfortunately, what awaited him was the door across the hall swinging open. And being completely sober, he was quite unprepared for the sight of Godric, clad only in a towel.

 

For one frozen moment, the two looked at each other, and Barry's mind continued to yelp _sex! sex! sex!_ with the occasional interlude of _Roman tattoos!_

 

“I- uh- I- you- so sorry,” Barry stammered before sprinting downstairs as fast as he could without tripping over his own two feet. Once he was safely on a different floor from He-Who-Should-Put-Some-Fucking-Trousers-On, Barry took some deep breaths and tried to scrub the image from his eyeballs.

 

Although, he was forced to admit, the singing in the shower was actually kind of cute.

 

In a fangy sort of way.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hapless hero receives two phone calls, commits a minor felony, and attempts to bake a cake.

Barry spent the rest of the night trying not to make eye contact with Godric, silently praising Marigold for her near-superhuman ability to diffuse awkward situations, and reading the minds of three businessmen, who the vampires suspected of shoddy accounting. He didn’t pick up any wrongdoing- although he did discover all three were cheating on their wives, which made him glad he hadn’t gone to business school like his father had wanted.

 

 _Not that I’d have a wife anyway,_ he thought as he slid into bed at four a.m. He settled down to a hopefully peaceful sleep when his phone rang. Grumbling to himself, he flipped it open.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Lilacs.”

 

Barry blinked. He didn’t recognize the voice, which was deep and rather gruff, and the phone number was unfamiliar.

 

“What?”

 

“He likes lilacs. _Get him some fucking lilacs.”_

 

Click.

 

Barry stared down at the silent phone, wondering what the hell that was all about. Assuming it was a wrong number, Barry rolled over and went to sleep.

 

He woke up to the golden light of mid-afternoon streaming through his window and his phone ringing again. But this time, he recognized the number.

 

“Hi, Mom,” he greeted.

 

“Barry, dear, how are you?”

 

“I’m fine, Mom,” he replied, waiting for the appropriate moment to tell her that her only son was currently living in a house full of vampires.

 

“So have you found yourself a job yet?”

 

The moment had arrived. “Actually, Mom, I’ve been hired by some vampires to work for them.”

 

“Oh, so you’re back at the hotel?”

 

“….no, Mom.”

 

“Are you doing freelance work, then?”

 

“No, Mom.” Barry steeled himself. “I’m, uh, well, I’ve moved in with the head honcho vamp and his two- well, I guess they’re like wingmen, except one is a woman-”

 

“ _Vampires?!”_ Barry cringed and held the phone well away from his ear. “You’re living with _vampires?_ You’re going to get yourself _killed_ , you-”

 

“Mom, let me talk to him! Let me!” he heard a voice in the background. There was a brief scuffle, some clunks that may or may not have been the phone dropping, rapid footsteps, and door slamming shut.

 

“Hey, Barry,” the slightly breathless voice of his sister came on the phone.

 

“Hey, Jen,” Barry sighed. “Is Mom all right?”

 

“Oh yeah, she’ll be fine as soon as she’s gotten a couple drinks in her,” his sister informed him. “Now, why was she shrieking about vampires?”

 

Barry outlined the situation as quickly as he could.

 

“So….” Jen began after an awkward silence. “Two guys and a gal?”

 

“Yep,” Barry replied.

 

“Are the guys cute?”

 

 _“Sis,”_ he moaned awkwardly. “ _No_. One of them looks like a cowboy that could _fucking kill you_ , and the other….well, the other…uh…well, Godric’s not bad, I suppose.” Barry had a brief flashback to the towel incident.

 

“Godric,” his sister muttered. Barry heard some tapping in the background, and assumed she was probably Googling him or something. “This is in Dallas, right?”

 

“Yeah,” Barry sighed, waiting for whatever was to come.

 

“Okay, here, let me check sexyvamps.com…it’s loading…it’s loading…no, I do not want to buy porn…loading…loadi-” her voice cut off.

 

“Sis? You all right?”

 

There was a moment of silence, then-

 

“Oh my fucking _God_! He’s a _babe!_ A grade-A, one-hundred-percent certified _hotass!_ Seriously, he looks like sex on a stick! Barry, if you do not tap that, I swear I will have Mom _disown you,_ and then I will _fly to Dallas_ so I can fucking tap that _myself-”_

 

“Jen! Shut _up_!” Barry moaned. “I’m not going to _tap_ a two-thousand-year-old vampire, and neither are you! In fact, there will be no tapping involved. I declare a no-tapping rule. Okay? Okay.”

 

His sister sighed, flustered. “Well, fine then. But seriously, Barry? You need to _get some_ , or you’re going to implode-”

 

“ _Jen!_ ” he hissed. “I do not feel comfortable discussing my sex life with you!”

 

“What sex life?”

 

He would sooner stick his head in a hive of angry bees than tell his sister that she was right.

 

“Look, Barry, just…be careful, all right?” Jen’s tone darkened. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“I won’t,” Barry reassured her. “Tell Mom that I love her, and that I’m sorry to be a disappointment to the family name.”

 

“Will do,” Jen said brightly. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger!”

 

Click.

 

Barry sighed. He was getting rather sick of people hanging up on him.

 

The former bellboy went downstairs to make himself something to eat and was greeted by Marigold.

 

“Good afternoon!” she said. “I just got back, I had to run some errands. What about you?”

 

“I just got up,” he informed her.

 

“You look stressed. What’s up?”

 

 _I always look stressed,_ Barry thought to himself.

 

“My sister told me I need to ‘get some’ and last night I got a phone call from some guy telling me to buy lilacs.”

 

Marigold blinked. “Lilacs?”

 

“Yeah. It was like four a.m., and I was about to go to bed, and my phone rings, and its this guy, and he says “Lilacs, he likes lilacs, get him some fucking lilacs.’”

 

“Which he?” Marigold inquired. “Godric, or Stan? I would assume Godric, since Stan isn’t a real big flower kinda guy.”

 

Barry blinked “You don’t think it was a wrong number?”

 

“Of course not,” his new human friend informed him. “You know, I bet he was talking about Godric, whoever it was. The sheriff’s been pretty melancholy lately.”

 

Barry was struck with a sudden urge to snuggle the vampire, but he smothered it with common sense. It persisted, so he hit it upside the head with the two-by-four of survival instinct. The urge receded.

 

“Well, come on then,” Marigold said, grabbing Barry’s hand as she dragged him towards the door.

 

“Wait- what? Where are we going?”

 

“To get some lilacs, of course!” she chirped.

 

 _She’s crazy and she will be the death of me someday, I just know it,_ Barry’s mind babbled to himself, but his traitorous feet followed Marigold to the car

 

“Now, where can we find a florist’s?” she asked him.

 

“Uh…there’s one on Lake Street, and another on Stevens Avenue, which are we closest to?”

 

“Stevens, and I’m not even going to ask why you know the location of two florists off the top of your head,” Marigold said, gunning the engine. They drove at what seemed to be breakneck speed through peaceful suburbia when Marigold suddenly swerved to the side of the road, slammed on the brakes, and jumped out in one smooth motion.

 

“What the _hell?”_ Barry yelped.

 

“Come on!” Marigold beckoned, and Barry’s traitorous body got itself out from the car. He really needed to talk to his body.

 

“Why are we here?” he inquired, staring up at the house that looked like pretty much every other house on the street.

 

“Look,” she whispered, pointing to the fenced-in backyard. _“Lilac bushes.”_

 

“Oh no, Marigold, we are _not_ stealing lilacs from some nice old lady’s house-” his lecture was lost on her as she ran towards the fence and vaulted it effortlessly.

 

“Come _on_!” she hissed. Barry sighed- the woman was a force of nature- and followed, clambering awkwardly over the fence.

 

“Okay, you get some from over there, and I’ll grab some from here,” she said, snapping some of the purple flowers off the bush. Barry inhaled, almost enjoying the pleasant scent, before remembering what he was doing. But, once he set his mind to something, he followed through, so he grabbed two handfuls and followed Marigold as she vaulted back over the fence, raced to the car, and gunned the engine, slamming on the gas and making a turn that would never be taught at a driver’s ed class.

 

“Boy, a little felony really makes my day!” she laughed as they drove back to the nest, and Barry was rather surprised to find himself laughing as well.

 

When they got back, Marigold excused herself to go watch some television, while Barry dug up some vases and artfully arranged the stolen lilacs. After joining the crazy bitch he was pretty sure was his new best friend for an episode of _“Daddy, I’m Dating a Vampire”,_ he went back into the kitchen to bake.

 

 _Whoever said only girls craved chocolate was obviously a nutcase_ , he thought to himself as he puttered around the room, searching out materials for a chocolate cake. Footsteps walking by the doorway drew his attention, and he poked his head out. _Oh, lovely_ , he thought. _They’re up._

 

Stan had lumbered into the lounge to watch crappy reality TV with Marigold- _and probably nibble on her a bit,_ he thought, before the disturbing mental image forced him to focus on something else. Unfortunately, that something was Godric, who had also entered the lounge.

 

“Stan, the man from the newspaper left a message on my phone,” he began, before stopping and staring at the vase of lilacs on the table. Barry held his breath and watched, completely still.

 

Godric slowly walked over to the flowers and touched them gently, as if afraid they would vanish. He closed his eyes, inhaling the scent. And then, to Barry’s delight, the ancient vampire smiled softly. Once he realized he was blushing, he ducked back into the kitchen and threw himself into his cake batter.

 

It was deliciously good cake batter, he decided, as he stirred in the cocoa and added the milk. Flicking on the radio, he started humming along quietly to a cheerful golden oldie. Barry, happy to not have any minds to read, zoned out.

 

“Did you bring those flowers?” a voice came from right behind him.

 

Barry, normally jumpy, yelped in shock and accidentally flung his bowl of cake batter into the air, where it performed an astounding acrobatic feat before becoming gravity’s bitch and falling solidly onto his head, drenching him in chocolaty goodness. He whirled around, panting and red-faced, to see Godric staring at him.

 

“I am sorry. I did not mean to startle you,” the sheriff informed him.

 

Barry blinked and removed the now-empty bowl from his head.

 

Godric stared at Barry.

 

Barry stared at Godric.

 

And then, suddenly, a huge smile broke across Godric’s face and he began to laugh, which, Barry had to admit, was really, _really_ cute. Barry, to his mild dismay, found himself chuckling, then laughing, then joining Godric in the throes of hysterics, all the while looking like he’d just attacked a mud monster and lost.

 

After a few minutes, Godric sighed happily. “I have not laughed like that in years.”

 

“Well, that sucks,” Barry said eloquently. Distractedly, he wiped off a smear of cake batter from his nose and licked it off his fingers. The vampire’s eyes tracked his every move, but before Barry completely lost all will to live and offered himself to Godric as Godric’s dinner _and_ dessert, the commanding voice of Isabel Martinez entered the room.

 

“What is going on here?”

 

Godric looked at Isabel. Isabel looked at Barry. Barry looked at his shoes and listened to the dripping of the cake batter.

 

“Well, geez, Barry, it’s not my birthday yet,” Marigold said, popping her head into the room.

 

That broke the awkwardness, and Godric turned to Barry. “Perhaps you should take a shower now, Barry.”

 

“Right. Uh- shower. Right,” Barry mumbled, trying not to drip on the carpet as he made his way to his shower.

 

He turned the knob to “cold”.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hapless hero receives another mysterious phone call, welcomes a new member into the nest, and accidentally sort of successfully cooks.

Two nights and three telepathy sessions later, Barry was sitting in the kitchen just before dawn playing poker with Marigold, and seeing how much he could get out of her before she remembered she was playing against someone who could _read minds_. He had won seven dollars and forty-three cents when his phone rang.

 

“Hello?”

 

“He likes animals.”

 

Barry’s eyes bugged out of his head and Marigold looked at him in alarm.

 

“ _What?”_

 

“Animals. Small fuzzy animals. Get him one, he’s still sad.”

 

“Are you fucking _serious?”_

 

“Deadly.”

 

Click.

 

Barry stared dumbfounded at the phone in his hand.

 

“Was it the mysterious caller again?” Marigold asked eagerly.

 

Barry nodded.

 

“What did he say this time?”

 

Barry paused for a moment, processing. He couldn’t- he _wouldn’t_ \- it was absolutely absurd- but then again, the lilacs had worked…

 

 _I’m so fucked. And not in the good way,_ Barry thought to himself.

 

“Marigold,” he said slowly. “How would you feel about getting a kitten?”

 

 

“I seriously can’t believe I’m doing this,” Barry moaned as he and Marigold walked into the Helping Paws Animal Shelter at eleven a.m. sharp.

 

“Oh, piffle. You know you want one,” Marigold said. “Besides, it will even the sides- three vamps to three breathers. Excuse me, miss? Excuse me?” she waved down a shelter volunteer. “Hi, my name is Marigold, this is Barry, and we’re looking for a kitten!”

 

“Well come right this way,” the elderly woman who, according to her nametag, was Peggy Sue, beckoned. She led them down a hallway filled with kennels. The noise from the barking was almost deafening, but fortunately, Barry couldn’t read animal minds.

 

“Take a look around here, hmm?” Peggy Sue said, opening the door to a room labeled “Kitty Korner”. Marigold, a stickler for grammar, raised an eyebrow at that, but let it go. For that, Barry was thankful. Last night, she had actually picked a fight with Stan over the use of the word “ain’t”, and in the process had nearly given Barry a heart attack.

 

There were way too many cats and kittens in this room. _Geez, spay and neuter your goddamn pets_ , Barry grumbled to himself as Marigold amused herself by making kissy faces at all the kittens. Most of them were either asleep or rolling about, trying to impress the people who might just take them home, but the one in the corner cage was different.

 

“Hi there,” Barry greeted the tiny gray kitten. The feline was sitting all alone in its cage, staring off into space and looking absurdly depressed. In fact, if Barry was being absolutely honest with himself, it looked a lot like Godric.

 

“Marigold? This one,” Barry gestured. His companion trotted over and gave the kitten a once-over.

 

“It sort of looks like Godric,” she observed.

 

Barry was struck with the sudden urge to slam his head against the nearest wall, but he restrained it and called to Peggy Sue, who helped maneuver the practically motionless kitten into a travel carrier.

 

At the front desk, Marigold whipped out a credit card to pay the adoption fee, as well as to purchase the carrier, a litterbox, a collar, and several pounds of either cat food or cat litter, Barry wasn’t sure.

 

“Is that yours?” he asked.

 

“Of course not, it’s Stan’s,” she informed him. Barry sighed and shook his head, wondering when the inevitable Stan-Marigold showdown would take place and whether either would make it out alive.

 

“Are you two adopting him together?” Peggy Sue asked, gesturing towards the kitten.

 

“Actually,” Marigold smirked, “We’re getting him for a vampire friend of ours.”

 

The look on Peggy Sue’s face was priceless.

 

 

“So what are we going to name him?” Marigold asked when they had arrived home and were maneuvering the travel carrier inside.

 

“Smokey, of course,” Barry grinned, picking up and nuzzling the little kitten, who purred like a NASCAR engine. “Oh you’re so cute. Oh yes you are. Who’s a good little kitty? You are!”

 

“I can’t quite decide if this is disturbing or cute,” Marigold informed him. “Sort of like Godric. Speaking of which, when are you two going to hook up already? The sexual tension is seriously throwing off my chi.”

 

Barry turned a rather fascinating shade of red and almost dropped Smokey, but his voice only squeaked a little bit when he choked out “Sexual tension? There’s no sexual tension! And what about you and Stan, huh? Sexual tension!”

 

“Our tension isn’t sexual, its mildly homicidal,” Marigold informed him. “Now. Where are we going to put the litter box?”

 

 

Several hours later, Marigold had run her errands for the day and Barry had amused himself by playing with Smokey, taking a nap, and beginning to cook dinner. Now, just as it was growing dark, the delicious stir-fry was sizzling on the stove when Barry had an idea. He grabbed a bottle of True Blood, but stopped when he heard a delighted shriek in the hall.

 

“ _Stan!_ ” Isabel cried. “It’s a _kitten!”_

 

Barry was relatively sure that they wouldn’t hurt Smokey, but he rushed out into the hallway anyway, where Isabel was cradling the kitten and Stan was staring at it like it was a three-headed guinea pig.

 

“Did you do this?” Isabel asked him.

 

Barry nodded. “Yep. Ah, this is Smokey. Marigold and I brought him home this afternoon. We thought, uh…we thought the house really needed a kitten.”

 

“Thank you,” Isabel said, gently stroking Smokey, who shamelessly preened. “Come here, you little scamp. Let’s find you a ball of yarn. Stan! Find me a ball of yarn!”

 

Barry grinned and returned to his stir-fry.

 

An hour later, Stan and Isabel entered the kitchen.

 

“That goddamn kitten is sickeningly adorable,” Stan growled.

 

Barry served himself and Marigold generous helpings of the stir-fry, but when Isabel went to stick a True Blood in the microwave, he stopped her.

 

“Wait- here, drink this one, it’s already heated up,” he said, handing her an open bottle. She raised an eyebrow, but since it was impossible to poison a vampire, she drank. After a moment, her eyes went wide.

 

“Barry, what did you _do_ to this?” she asked.

 

“Oh- uh- sorry, I-” he stammered, but was cut off.

 

“It’s _delicious_ ,” she said in surprise. “Stan, drink this!”

 

He took a sip and blinked. “What’d you put in this, boy?” he growled menacingly.

 

Barry gulped. “Well, I was making the stir-fry-”

 

“Ish rilly ghud,” Marigold said around her mouthful.

 

“- and there was steam and spices sort of wafting off, so I just kinda caught it with the bottle of True Blood, and, well, did it flavor it? That’s what I had hoped for.”

 

“Did more than flavor it,” Stan mumbled.

 

Marigold poked Stan. “Now, Stan. What did I tell you about compliments?”

 

The western vampire heaved a sigh and muttered something that sounded vaguely like “fucking humans”, but informed Barry in a slightly less menacing tone that “it’s pretty tasty.”

 

“Godric!” Isabel called. “Get in here! Barry made dinner!”

 

“I can’t,” the voice wafted in. “I’m stuck.”

 

Everyone in the kitchen stared at each other in confused disbelief. Then, as one, they jumped up and sprinted to the living room to find out how on earth a two-thousand-year-old vampire could get “stuck” anywhere.

 

They found Godric in his favorite chair with Smokey curled up on his lap, fast asleep. The vampire smiled up at them. “I did not want to disturb him.”

 

Barry almost passed out from the sheer cuteness. He took deep breaths, counted backwards from ten, and mentally recited his mother’s rules for doing laundry. (Rule #1- always check the washing machine for spare change, small children, and stray squirrels.)

 

“Take a sip,” Isabel said, handing him the bottle.

 

“I do not need-” he tried to protest, but was cut off.

 

 _“Drink it.”_

 

Godric took a sip and raised his eyebrows. “This is good. Barry, you made this?”

 

Barry nodded.

 

Godric looked directly at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

 

Barry had a feeling that he wasn’t talking about the True Blood.

 

 

When everyone had adjourned to the kitchen, Godric carefully removed his cell phone from his pocket without disturbing Smokey. He flipped it open and pressed the speed dial.

 

“Eric,” he said by way of greeting. “He brought home a kitten. And yesterday, there were lilacs in the house.”

 

“Were there?” his favorite child’s voice came through the phone as innocent as a schoolboy. Of course, Godric had once had to masquerade as a schoolboy, and he knew precisely their level of innocence.

 

“Yes, there were. And even if the kitten thing was just a coincidence, as far as I know you are the only person who knows about the lilacs,” Godric told him. “Have you been conversing with Barry?”

 

“You’ve been sad,” Eric said, changing the subject as subtly as a train wreck. “I can feel it, and quite frankly it’s annoying. So I had to fix it. Is it working?”

 

Godric smiled and stroked Smokey gently. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.”


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our hapless hero doesn't know much about history, serves as a fashion consultant, and is not badass.

Later that night, Barry stood in the kitchen making himself a cup of hot chocolate as Smokey wound around his ankles. Isabel, Stan, and Marigold were all out at someone's vampire club, and Godric was- well, Barry wasn't entirely sure where Godric was, and so he looked very carefully around all the corners on the way to the living room to avoid being startled. Sighing contentedly, he snuggled into the poofy couch- _heh, poof_ , Barry chuckled to himself- and waited for Smokey to make himself at home on his lap. Then Barry heard the briefest of sounds and looked to his left.

 

Godric was staring at him.

 

Barry yelped and his entire body went rigid in shock, but he managed to avoid spilling hot chocolate all over himself, the kitten, and the couch. For that, he sent up a brief prayer of thanks to whatever deity was watching over him.

 

“I am sorry,” Godric said quietly. “I did not mean to startle you.”

 

“You didn't,” Barry squeaked.

 

They sat in silence for a very awkward moment as Barry coaxed his vocal chords back to a normal pitch.

 

“May I ask you something?” he inquired.

 

Godric nodded.

 

“Have you ever met any other telepaths?”

 

The vampire nodded again. “Three, that I knew personally. They are so very rare, after all.” He smiled quietly at Barry. “Would you like me to tell you about them?”

 

The rare telepath nodded, entranced by the lilt of Godric's voice, even though he knew damn well it wasn't glamour. The vampire's features took on a nostalgic set.

 

“The first was in Egypt,” he began. “Barely a century after I became a vampire. His name was Rafan, and he was locked in a cage like a dog, out of his mind because of everyone else that was in it. They thought him mad, and the only reason he wasn't killed was because his father was rich and powerful. I turned him- he was my first child, actually.”

 

“Was he able to hear thoughts after- after that?” Barry asked.

 

“No,” Godric smiled. “So keep your mind open to that possibility.”

 

Barry pushed the thought of Godric sucking on his neck _and possibly other places_ out of his mind and waited for Godric's little walk down memory lane to continue.

 

“The next one was more than a thousand years later. It was about the time of the beginning of the Renaissance. Her name was Veronica, and I took her as my own.” He glanced at Barry to make sure he understood. Barry did. “She was a great help to me for several decades. Without her, my massive power base in Italy would not have happened. You know, I was king of a large section of the country for a long time. Italy is beautiful- have you ever been?”

 

Barry shook his head. “I haven't really been anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon line. We didn't have a lot of money as a kid, and it's kinda hard to travel with a telepath- anyway, go on.”

 

“The last one- Wilhelm- he lived in the late eighteenth century. He was a spy in your Revolutionary War, as were Eric and I. We were quite a team, we three.” He smiled distantly, lost in the memory.

 

“For which side?” Barry inquired.

 

“The Americans, of course. I have always loved revolutions.”

 

“Why do you wear gray all the time?” Barry blurted out before he could stop himself.

 

Godric blinked twice, which Barry knew was an expression of shock for most vampires. “I- I don't wear gray all the time.”

 

“Yes you do,” Barry countered, pointing to the polo and slacks that matched Smokey.

 

“They're comfortable,” Godric defended.

 

“Don't you have any comfortable clothes that have some _color_ in them?” Barry sighed.

 

“Yes, of course, Isabel and Marigold enjoy dragging me on their shopping expeditions,” Godric informed him. “They enjoy dressing me up.”

 

Barry snorted with laughter before he could stop himself, but Godric didn't seem to mind.

 

“Yes,” Godric sighed sadly. “And sometimes they put me in women's clothing. Actually, that's mostly Marigold.”

 

Barry stopped laughing.

 

“It's not a big deal,” Godric informed him. “This one time, actually, in the seventeenth century, I had to disguise myself as a woman for awhile so that Eric and I could pass as husband and wife. Apparently I was pretty.”

 

 _I bet_ , Barry thought.

 

Godric frowned slightly, nibbling on his lower lip. Then, he stood. “I have a business meeting later tonight. Perhaps you could help me find something...colorful to wear?”

 

“Uh....sure, no problem,” Barry nodded.

 

“Come on,” Godric beckoned, walking at a sedate human speed out of the room and up the stairs. Barry followed him dutifully, trying to beat down the glee at being _taken to Godric's bedroom._

 

The room itself was smaller than he had expected, very neat, and almost completely bare of personal items, except for a few framed photos next to a rather large bed. One was of Isabel and Stan at the kitchen table, with a fork coming out of the side of the frame and poking Stan- Barry suspected Marigold, as she was the only person suicidal enough to attempt such an act- and one was of Isabel, Stan, and what appeared to be a giant blob of cotton candy with Marigold's body attached, standing in front of a carnival ride. Barry didn't ask. Instead, he looked at the third photo, which was black-and-white and obviously very old. In it, Godric was standing next to the second hottest man Barry had ever seen- and, working at a vampire hotel, he had seen plenty.

 

“That's Eric,” Godric said from right behind Barry. Barry only squeaked a little, and he congratulated himself on getting used to Godric's sudden appearances.

 

“Oh. Uh....friend?”

 

“You could say that,” the vampire chuckled. Barry decided it would be best for everyone if he didn't pursue that little train of thought.

 

“So. Dress me,” Godric commanded him imperiously. Barry ignored the part of his brain that was shrieking _Undress! Undress! Undress!_ , and slowly walked over to the wardrobe and opened it, rifling through the clothes.

 

“Business meeting?”

 

“That's right.”

 

“Here, try this,” Barry said, tossing out a dress shirt. “The blue will go well with your skin color.”

 

“You mean white?” Godric chuckled.

 

Barry had no idea how to respond.

 

“How about some pants?”

 

 _Thank you for changing the subj-pants?!_ Barry thought wildly. He grabbed the first pair he saw and tossed them to Godric. Fortunately, they were black.

 

“But black isn't a color,” the vampire complained.

 

“Technically, it's the absence of color, but the beauty of black is that it goes with every color. Except orange, then it just looks like Halloween,” Barry advised.

 

Godric processed this information and began to change. Barry whirled around, stared straight at the wardrobe, and thought about the most unsexy thing he could think of, which happened to be the vampire bitch who'd bitten him a month ago.

 

“What do you think?” Godric asked softly. Barry turned around.

 

“Nice,” he squeaked after picking his jaw up from where it was hanging around his knees. “And, uh. Your tattoos are pretty badass.” The neckline of the shirt was hanging wide open, allowing the telepath to get a good look at the markings beneath Godric's collarbone.

 

“Thank you,” Godric said, before perking his head up, obviously hearing something that Barry couldn't. “They're home.”

 

With that, he vampire-speeded down the stairs, leaving Barry to awkwardly run along behind at a much slower pace. He crashed into the living room after Godric.

 

“Godric?” Isabel's voice came through. “Are you in-” She stopped short upon entering the living room, causing Stan and Marigold to run into her. Before they complained, they caught sight of Godric's clothes.

 

“Godric?” Stan began disbelievingly. “Are those... _colors?”_

 

“Is that the shirt I bought you?” Marigold exclaimed delightedly.

 

“What does 'badass' mean?” Godric asked the room at large.

 

There was a moment of quiet.

 

“Badass- you know, ultra cool, in sort of a dangerous way,” Marigold informed him.

 

“Am I badass?” Godric inquired.

 

“Oh yes,” Marigold said. “You're badass, I'm badass, and Isabel is super badass. It's the boots.” She pointed to the shoes that would kill a lesser woman.

 

“Am I badass?” Stan growled.

 

“Well, sort of, being a vampire and all, but you'd up the quotient if you ditched the cowboy gear,” Marigold advised.

 

Stan grumbled.

 

“And sorry, Barry, but you're not badass,” Marigold apologized.

 

“That's all right. I have long accepted that my fate in life does not lie in the boundaries of badassery,” the former bellboy said.

 

There was a sort of awkward pause as everyone stood around for a moment.

 

“Well, we have a business meeting to get to,” Isabel said.

 

“Of course, I had nearly forgotten,” Godric nodded. “Let's go. You too, Stan. Marigold, I would advise you get some sleep. I assume you have your list for tomorrow?”

 

“I do indeed,” Marigold affirmed.

 

“Good, good,” Godric motioned for everyone to disperse. “Onwards. Oh, and Barry?” He leaned over to whisper almost silently in Barry's ear.

 

“I think you're pretty badass.”


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone gets staked.

When Barry awoke the late next afternoon, he smiled. There had been no mysterious phone calls the previous night, he only had to read a few minds, and he had won twenty bucks from Marigold in a rousing game of blackjack. Rested and ready for the night to come, he strode downstairs, fed Smokey, and stopped Marigold from putting tinfoil in the microwave “to see what would happen”.

 

“So are you coming to the club this evening?” Marigold asked him after he had prevented the house from burning down.

 

“Uh….what club?” Barry asked.

 

“The vampire club they own- The Bat’s Wing,” Marigold informed him. “It’s one of their many businesses.”

 

“Well, who’s going?”

 

“All of us, duh,” Marigold smiled. “It’s like a family outing!”

 

“Dude, we are the weirdest family _ever_ ,” Barry sighed.

 

“Oh no we’re not, you haven’t met my family,” Marigold muttered. “And anyway, we totally have a family dynamic going on. Stan’s the grumpy dad, and Isabel is the nurturing mother, and you’re the awkward teenager, and I’m the super-sexy aunt, and Smokey is the cat.”

 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Barry grumbled. “And who’s Godric? The emo brother?”

 

“Well, no, Godric’s just….Godric,” Marigold explained. “Ooh! He can be the family sex symbol!”

 

“How about _not,_ ” Barry informed her.

 

“Okay, well, you’re coming tonight, like it or lump it. Now go shower and find something to wear,” Marigold ordered. “And it had better be something nice. You have a hot bod. Utilize it.”

 

Barry wanted to utilize some alcohol to get over the trauma of that comment, but dutifully he trooped up to his room. When he came down, it was full dark, and the household- _not family not family not family,_ Barry thought- was gathered in the kitchen, dressed to the nines. Particularly the sheriff, who, according to Marigold’s brain, was wearing the skinny jeans she had picked out and the concert tee from her favorite band.

 

“I feel ridiculous,” Godric informed the room at large.

 

“Believe me, you don’t look nearly as ridiculous as Deputy Dead, here,” Marigold said, gesturing at Stan, who did look rather silly, but damned if Barry was going to point that out.

 

“Shall we go, then?” Isabel intervened quickly before Stan actually killed Marigold. Antagonizing someone who occasionally fed off you seemed like a bad idea to Barry, but then again, he couldn’t figure out how Marigold’s brain worked, even with telepathy. He could only assume that all the caffeine she drank had finally driven her around the bend.

 

Off they went, with Marigold driving because Isabel “couldn’t drive with these boots”, Stan didn’t have his license (“dumbass bloodbags at the DMV”) and Barry wasn’t the best driver- how could he, being able to read the irate minds of every driver on the road?- but now he was starting to think that even a drunken cat behind the wheel would be safer than Marigold.

 

They reached The Bat’s Wing in what had to be record time and were waved right through the line, past the bouncers, into the club, and to a reserved table.

 

 _Being sheriff obviously has its perks,_ Barry thought to himself as they settled in. True Bloods were brought for all the vampires and someone had the poor judgment to give Marigold a red bull, which she quaffed like the elixir of life before bouncing off to the dance floor. Barry waved away all alcohol, as it lessened what little control he had over his telepathy.

 

This was the largest bunch of humans he had been around since he’d first come to work for the vampires, and the dozens of brains barraged Barry’s minds like mental machine guns. He tried to block it out, but the noise grew until he felt a cool hand on his arm. Suddenly, everything went silent.

 

“I hate clubs,” Godric whispered.

 

“Me too,” Barry groaned. “I can hear _everything_ , and it’s all amped up by the alcohol…”

 

“What is everyone thinking about?” Godric asked.

 

Barry rolled his eyes. “Sex. And nothing else. Literally.”

 

Godric snorted, which sounded incredibly undignified on such an old vampire. “I think even Smokey would be able to pick that up.”

 

 _Was that a joke?_ Barry wondered briefly, before Isabel came down and sat next to them.

 

“Marigold has attracted quite the crowd,” she said, pointing to the middle of the dance floor. They could barely see her through the large cluster of vampires and fangbangers surrounding her.

 

“She’s got stage presence,” Barry commented.

 

“Charisma,” Isabel added.

 

“Look at Stan,” Godric almost giggled. The three turned to look at the tall Texan vampire who was standing against a wall, glaring daggers at Marigold and her entourage.

 

“Excuse me, I think I need something to drink,” Barry said. He made his way to the bar for a glass of water- lame, yes, but he as a person was rather lame- but on his way back he was accosted by a very scantily-clad young woman.

 

“Well hey there, cutie,” she purred, sidling up to Barry and wrapping an arm around his waist. Barry instantly saw what was in her mind, and he didn’t like it. At all.

 

“Uh- sorry, I’m not-”

 

“He’s with me,” Godric said from his other side. Barry blinked, not at all surprised by the vampire’s sudden appearance but mildly confused at his tone, which wasn’t merely informative, but almost angry. And an angry Godric would be scary as shit, Barry was sure. The fangbanger obviously understood, because she backed off pretty quickly.

 

“Sorry about that,” Godric said as they walked back to Isabel. “I mean, you weren’t interested, were you? You seemed-”

 

“I was _definitely_ not interested,” Barry said emphatically.

 

After that, he began to enjoy the evening a little. Various vampires and humans came to greet Godric- and to a lesser extent, Stan and Isabel- while Barry occupied himself by alternately reading minds and staring at Godric. The neckline of his shirt was low, and Barry could see the top of a tattoo peeking out at the base of his neck. The telepath was struck by powerful urge to nibble on it, but felt that would be an exercise in very poor judgement.

 

After a few hours, the family of five decided it was time to be going, and to avoid the majority of the crowds, they left through the back entrance, which led into an alley. Barry’s mind quieted until all he could hear was Marigold, whose thoughts actually vibrated from the amount of caffeine she had consumed. He started to smile, but stopped.

 

 _…vampire bastards kill ‘em not right…_

 

Barry looked around, but he couldn’t see anything in the dark.

 

 _…kill them sacrifice glory glory so afraid die…._

 _...girl first then the kid…_

 

Oh God.

 

 _“Stakes!_ ” Barry yelled, and what happened next, happened very quickly.

 

Three masked men jumped out of the shadows, holding stakes in one hand and silver chains in the other, their thoughts and actions introducing them as Fellowship fanatics. Marigold jumped in front of Stan and Isabel blocked off Godric, effectively pinning him against the wall as two of the guys advanced on her. Barry focused on Isabel and Godric, unable to see what was happening with Marigold, Stan, and their assailant- a clanking noise and a roar suggested silver chains had been flung. Isabel tried to block the men ganging up on her, but the width of the alley was such that she couldn’t run away, and Godric was literally backed into a corner. The Latina vampire lashed out at one man who was whirling around the silver chains, but because that occupied all her attention, she didn’t see the other man come up her blind side with a stake. Barry did. His usually cluttered brain actually stopped thinking, and then he was _moving,_ faster than he thought he could, flinging himself in front of Isabel. There was a tangle of limbs, muffled thumps, a yelp, and then a sudden, blinding bolt of pain in Barry’s side. He looked down.

 

There was a stake sticking out of his ribs.

 

Godric, somehow, was at his side in an instant to stop him from falling. His entire went cold and numb- the stake didn’t hurt, and if Barry had been able to think, he might have realized he was going into shock. There was a roaring in his ears and Godric’s face swam across his blurred vision.

 

“Barry!” he heard the vampire say. “Barry! Can you hear me? You’re going to be all right, you’re going to be all right, you’re going to be-”

 

And then the world went black.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is an abundance of warm fangy feelings.

Barry awoke the next morning feeling like he'd been hit by a truck that then threw it into reverse and ran over him _again_. He found himself unable to muster the energy to open his eyes, instead focusing the little spark of movement on shifting his limbs to check that they were all attached. However, his left arm bumped against something, which startled him enough to open his eyes. He was staring straight up at his bedroom ceiling, with Marigold leaning over him, looking concerned.

 

“Barry?” she whispered. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Like shit,” he rasped. “What _happened_ last night?”

 

Marigold pointed next to him. Barry, with no small amount of effort, turned his head and came face-to-side-of-neck with a sleeping Godric.

 

“What did I _do_ last night?” Barry whispered.

 

“You got staked,” Marigold informed him. “Don't you remember?”

 

Barry took a deep breath and felt the expected twinge in his ribcage.

 

“Kind of,” Barry answered. “I remember getting jumped in the alley, and getting staked, but then...nothing after that.” _Except Godric_ , his brain added.

 

“We- we thought- it was scary,” Marigold sniffled- _sniffled? Was she crying?_ Barry wondered. “We didn't know if you were gonna be all right- or- or...”

 

“Well, I'm fine, really, sort of,” Barry assured her. “But would you mind telling me why Godric is in my _bed?_ ” Not that he minded, per say, but he had hoped the circumstances would be decidedly different.

 

“He wouldn't leave you,” Marigold smiled. “He stayed up until almost ten, hoping you'd wake up, but you didn't, and he made me promise to stay here, and I did, I haven't left, and really, it was _so_ cute-”

 

“Marigold,” Barry stopped her. “I...would you mind showing me what happened last night?”

 

“Showing...?”

 

Barry raised his eyebrows.

 

“Oh! Oh, right! With the mind reading!” she exclaimed. “Sure, sure. Do I have to do anything?”

 

“No. Just hold my hand-” he ignored her leer- “and remember last night.”

 

Marigold took his hand and closed her eyes. Images began to flash through his brain.

 

 _Stakes and silver chains flashing, burning flesh_

 _left hook breaking a nose, right cross shattering a jaw_

 _screaming, Marigold screaming, Godric screaming_

 _bloodbloodbloodbloodblood_

 _Barry crumpled in Godric's arms, Godric slashing his own wrist, giving Barry blood_

 _small boy carrying a limp body home_

 _scaredscaredscared_

 _Isabel muttering in Spanish, Stan punching a hole in the wall_

 _Barry so pale so still_

 _“Don't leave him” “I won't”_

 

Barry let go of her hand before her mind overwhelmed him completely.

 

“Marigold?” he began slowly. “Was that... _you_ punching that guy?”

 

She nodded. “Yeah. They managed to get chains around Stan, so he was sort of unable to do anything, and Isabel was a little preoccupied with the whole stake thing.”

 

“How...?”

 

“My dad was a professional cage fighter.”

 

“And your mother?”

 

“Congresswoman.”

 

Suddenly, Marigold made a lot more sense.

 

He yawned, sleepy, and Marigold poked him gently on the nose. “You're such a cutie. But seriously. Godric totally flipped out.”

 

“What happened to the guys who did it?” Barry inquired. “Did Godric-”

 

“Oh, they weren't that lucky. I got to them first.” Marigold's grin was absolutely terrifying, and in his prone state, Barry could read her mind like a book. Oh, _wow._

 

“Well, since you're not dead, I'm going to shower and grab a cup of coffee before coming back, 'kay? I haven't slept in twenty-four hours, I deserve it. Sleep well,” she said, and left the room quietly.

 

By the time she returned ten minutes later, Barry was fast asleep. Marigold smiled and sat down in the chair beside the bed, but before she settled in with a copy of _Sexy Vamps- Undead and Undressed!,_ she gently shoved Barry so that he was nuzzled up against Godric.

 

 _There_ , she thought contentedly, and sat down to enjoy her mocha.

 

 

When Barry awoke next, it was night. He knew this because the window was open and Godric was looming over him in a mildly menacing manner. His face, lit by the gentle light of a floor lamp, was unreadable.

 

“How are you feeling?” he whispered.

 

Barry thought about that for a moment. “Pretty good, actually. Where is everyone? Are they all right?”

 

Godric nodded. “Yes. Marigold fell asleep watching you. Stan had to carry her to bed.” Godric smiled. “It was very cute.”

 

Barry grinned, the mental image of big Stan and teeny Marigold keeping him occupied for a second.

 

“Do you remember any of what happened last night?” Godric asked.

 

Barry shifted himself to a sitting position. “Sort of. I woke up during the day and talked with Marigold. She showed me what happened. Uh...thank you for the blood.”

 

“It's very powerful,” Godric said. “Marigold has informed me that it would be worth thousands on the drug market.”

 

 _Lucky me, I get it for free,_ Barry thought.

 

“Not that I don't appreciate it, but...couldn't you have taken me to a hospital?” the telepath inquired.

 

Godric cast his eyes down and nibbled on his lower lip. “There was no time,” he confessed, and buried his head in his hands.

 

“Hey...hey, Godric, it's all right, I'm fine,” Barry said, awkwardly patting the vampire's knee as he maneuvered himself to a sitting position. Godric just shook his head.

 

“Why did you do it?” he asked after a minute, voice muffled by his palms.

 

“Why did I do what?”

 

Godric looked up. “Why did you take the stake for Isabel?”

 

“Well...she's your friend,” Barry said awkwardly.

 

Godric waited for him to expound upon that point.

 

“You would have been sad if she died,” Barry continued.

 

Godric frowned, trying to process. “So you were willing to die...so that I wouldn't be sad?”

 

“Well if you got all depressed again, committing a minor felony and buying a cat would have been all for nothing,” Barry blurted out, before shutting up post-haste.

 

“So it _was_ you that brought the lilacs.”

 

“Er.” Barry turned a particularly vibrant shade of red.

 

“Why?” Godric asked.

 

“Because the creepy guy on the phone told me,” Barry muttered.

 

“No, no, not that,” Godric said briskly. “Why do you _care_ if I'm sad or not?”

 

 _Because I'm wildly in love with you, dumbass,_ Barry thought.

 

Suddenly, Godric was out of the chair and crouched over him, staring down with laser-beam eyes.

 

“Do you mean it?”

 

“Did you just read my fucking _mind?”_

 

“Do you _mean_ it?” Godric asked again.

 

“Of _course_ I fucking mean it, you oblivious, stone-faced, bloodsucking, angsty immortal teenager!” Barry yelped, finally pushed to the suicidal breaking point. “Now get the fuck off me or fucking kiss me already before I fucking _implode!”_

 

In his defense, he honestly hadn't been expecting Godric to actually kiss him.

 

Barry gasped softly at the first brush of his smooth, cool lips but quickly responded to what had to have been one of the top ten kisses of all time- not that he had much to compare it to, but _Oh. My. Godric._ Unfortunately, just as he had gained enough control over his nerve endings to bring his hands up to Godric’s hips, the vampire squeaked and pulled away, hands slapped over his mouth and eyes wide.

 

“Wha…?” Barry blinked, trying to get his brain to work again. Godric _really_ knew what he was doing. Of course, he’d had two millennia to practice his technique… _focus, focus, focus_ , Barry thought with the tiny part of his mind that wasn’t shrieking _Sex! Sex! Sex!_ as loud as it could.

 

“…fangs,” Godric mumbled from behind his hands.

 

Barry sighed. _Stupid insecure vampires,_ he thought to himself, and gently brought Godric’s hands away from his face. Yep, those were fangs.

 

“I am sorry,” Godric apologized.

 

“What the _fuck_ have you got to be sorry for?” Barry asked in genuine confusion.

 

Godric gestured to his fangs. “I have not lost control like that in a very long time.”

 

“That was losing control?” Barry blinked. “Dude, you are like the Yoda of vampires. You have got some serious control going on. I mean, most vamps would have just drained me in my sleep.”

 

Godric sighed and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Barry’s.

 

“I can _feel_ you,” he whispered.

 

“Well….you’re sort of on top of me,” the former bellboy pointed out.

 

Godric chuckled. “No, not like that. I can feel _you_. Your emotions. Your mind.” He shut his eyes. “I shouldn’t- you’re so _alive._ ”

 

“And you’re so undead, what’s the point?”

 

Godric looked at him with his big gray kitten eyes, and Barry’s heart literally melted, even as other parts of his anatomy….didn’t. Those eyes had seen civilizations rise and fall and had watched thousands die were so full of pain that Barry hurt too.

 

“I haven’t cared for anyone in a very long time,” Godric confessed in a broken whisper.

 

“It’s not something you forget,” Barry informed him.

 

“But you deserve someone…. _alive,_ ” Godric told him.

 

“Bullshit,” Barry frowned. “I don’t deserve anything, except maybe a commendation for keeping Marigold from burning down your house. I want _you_ , more than anything I’ve wanted before, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to fight for you.”

 

Godric smiled. It was beautiful. “If you fought me, you would lose.”

 

“Probably, yes.”

 

“But I appreciate the sentiment.”

 

“Good. Now, can we please get back to business?”

 

Godric laughed, and suddenly, Barry was pinned to the bed and both their shirts had vanished.

 

 _Vampire speed_ , he thought giddily as he ran his hands- _finally_ \- over Godric’s tattoos, following closely with his tongue. The vampire moaned and ground harshly against him, before dragging Barry up into another kiss, this time with the fangs. Somehow, they managed to slice open someone’s lip- Barry honestly wasn’t sure whose- and both hissed at the taste of blood. Godric’s grip on Barry’s hips tightened noticeably.

 

With great effort on his part, Barry wrenched himself away from Godric and bared his neck to the vampire.

 

“Take me,” he ordered.

 

“Are you sure?” Godric whispered, running his tongue over the edge of Barry’s ear.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Barry moaned, and then Godric was at his throat and _oh god_ , it hurt so fucking _good_ , and suddenly he understood that this made him Godric’s, _he belonged to Godric,_ and at that moment, nothing could thrill him more. Then, for the first time in Barry’s life, his mind shut off completely.

 

 

When Marigold came in to check on Barry the next morning, she was expecting him to still be sleeping, as neither he nor Godric had come down the night before. Isabel and Stan had insisted that both were fine, but vampires were vulnerable in the daytime, so she decided to make sure that all was well. What she found was a tangle of Barry and Godric, with Godric’s head on Barry’s chest and Barry’s arms circling the vampire protectively.

 

After taking several minutes to properly drink in the sight of the majestic specimens of male nudity in front of her, she quietly pulled the sheet over them and left the room smiling.

 

 

When Barry awoke just before dark, he was greeted by the cool, soothing weight of Godric wrapped around him. He smiled and decided that if everyone in the world had a Godric, there wouldn’t be any wars. But they would have to find their own Godrics, because this one was Barry’s, and Barry didn’t share.

 

His growling stomach reminded him of the fact that he hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, and now that the immediate effects of Godric’s blood had worn off, he was _hungry_. Quietly, he maneuvered himself out of bed, put on some pants and a shirt that may or may not have been his, checked the fresh, pink scar on his ribcage, and shuffled downstairs to make some pancakes.

 

Obviously, the vamp blood was still in his system, because when he heard the screech of “ _Barry!_ ” and thundering footsteps, he was able to whirl around and actually catch Marigold when she hurtled through the air towards him. Even better, he was able to block out her thoughts and just focus on giving her a great big hug.

 

“So…how are you feeling?” she asked slowly, grinning.

 

Barry just smirked.

 

“Oh my god!” Marigold squealed, and she began doing some sort of pelvic thrusting dance, accompanied by the chant “Barry got some booty! Barry got some booty!”

 

Barry decided that if Marigold and Jen were to ever be in the same room together, the world would implode as a self-defense mechanism.

 

“So how was it?” she inquired after the final dance move, which involved a backflip, a full split, and jazz hands.

 

“He’s had two thousand years to practice, how do you _think_ it was?” Barry replied as he pulled out flour and a mixing bowl.

 

“Be still, my beating heart,” Marigold cried, dramatically collapsing into a chair and fanning herself.

 

When dark fell a few minutes later and Godric appeared behind him- silently, as usual- Barry didn’t startle or drop the bowl of pancake mix. Instead, he just gave his vampire a peck on the cheek and a bottle of True Blood, even though Godric insisted he didn’t need it. Stan and Isabel followed soon after and took their own drinks as Barry served up the piping hot flapjacks.

 

Barry looked around the kitchen table at the happy scene before him- his family, weird as they were. Isabel was dangling a string for Smokey to bat around, Stan and Marigold were cheerfully bickering about something, and it was all so domestic and _normal_ \- something Barry never thought he would have- that Barry thought he would just burst. And sure, he and Marigold were the only ones actually eating the pancakes, and sure, they were eating breakfast food at night, but then Godric smiled and nudged his foot under the table and Marigold asked him to pass the butter and Smokey was meowing and it was everything Barry had ever wanted.

 

The mind-blowing vampire sex was just a bonus.


End file.
